For Their Entertainment
by Phoenix Refrain
Summary: This is the story of Melanthe "Mags" Hawthorne, Rhett Tifton, and Allette Zephyr in the 11th Hunger Games. We all know who wins, but not how or what she lost in the process. How did she change the Games? How did she win? Who was Mags really?
1. The Cornocopia

_Greetings to For Their Entertainment! As some of you know this was previously posted as For Their Entertainment: The 11th Hunger Games a fanf ic which I have not written on for about 2 years. It was my first HG Fanfic I believe or was begun right around the time as The Phoenix: Burning Day. I had previously posted twelve chapters._

_After a lot of careful thought and consideration, instead of continuing the story I decided to revise it completely before continuing (it has been revised and extended so much that it is at the core the same story but also very different). The chapters were too flat and too short. Then there came the matter of time-namely having enough to rewrite it. I've been working on this along and along, and I finally decided to take the leap. So here is the newly-revised-so-much-it's-a-different-but-same-story._

_I hope you enjoy this revision/redoing as much as I have redoing it and I hope that you can enjoy the new depths the characters have._

_Love, _

_Phoenix Refrain._

_PS: No relation AT ALL to Gale, I promise! But her mother WAS in Districts of Hunger and is currently being written about in Districts of Rebellion _

_Disclaimer: This is posted on my profile and here. I don't own any characters that are not mine. I am merely playing in Suzanne Collin's world. Original characters however, are mine. I am making no money off this._

* * *

**Melanthe "Mags" Hawthorne, District 4**

**Chapter 1: The Cornucopia**

* * *

_All we are is entertainment_  
_Caught up in our own derangement_  
_Tell us what to say and what to do_  
_All we are are pretty faces_  
_Picture perfect bottled rage_  
_Packaged synthesized versions of you_

_Is this only entertainment? Pull the curtains, places please  
We learned to sing and dance and cry on cue  
But this is more than entertainment in a world so sick with pain  
This is the only thing that's real or true_

Rise Against - Entertainment

* * *

As the chute lifts me to the open air, I feel the humidity press in on me. As far as I can see is forests, some of the woods swaying as if some strange creature is making the very floor of the forests rock with its impact. But there, just a few hundred yards in front of me—is the Cornucopia.

My eyes fall on the center of the treasures and there is what I know that I need—a spear.

I've only been out in the open for a few seconds, but I can feel the heat in the air. I can feel it drying out my mouth, and vaporizing the remnants of home until they are only a part of my memory. There are no beaches or oceans here, nothing but trees, biting wind, and heat.

I'm not use to such arid temperatures. Where I come from, there's always water—everywhere, even in the air it feels like water. It's a part of you when you're born in District 4. You can taste the ocean on the tip of your tongue, on everything around you. The salt works it's way into your hair and into your skin, even the houses are crusted with ocean water that coats everywhere with it's salty brine. Sometimes, I even think it rains with salt.

But here, there's a different kind of salt—from sweat and not the water. I can feel it trickling down the back of my neck onto my back. The trail of it making my shirt start to stick with sweat after only a few seconds. It drips from my hair into my mouth, and I lick my lips. Salt, but not the salt of home...But I can't think about any of that not now, the games are beginning. Any second no—

Before I have time to make my decision again, to do anything but process what the arena looks like—the gong has sounded and I am running _toward _the Cornucopia. My feet make the decision that my brain and heart could not.

As I leap to the ground, I can feel the force of it impacting my knees, causing me to stumble slightly before I can regain my balance. The earth is firm, and I'm unused to running like this where the sand doesn't give away beneath your feet. I stretch out my legs and run, pumping my arms by my side in rhythm to propel myself forward. I'm used to running at least, even if it's under different conditions, so I won't be winded easily even if I'm unused to the dense air. I find that I'm faster on this harder surface. But it's not the sprint to the Cornucopia I'm worried about, it's leaving the Cornucopia after I'm there.

This is the moment that mattered most in the games, at least from what I had seen of them in my home—The Cornucopia. It is both the place of life and of death. If you can reach the golden shaped vessel, anything you might need for the games could be there, but also the knowledge that almost everyone else will be running for it too.

I had spent all night going back and forth between running to or away from the Cornucopia. I had finally decided that though I felt I could outrun the other tributes, I could not outfight so many of them at once. I was fast, but was I fast enough? It would be better to leave behind the bloodbath, better to take my chances in running the other way. Make my own weapons, find my own food...

Inside of me, the decision wars on still. Hesitation plagues my actions as I go toward the golden tube of death, but it doesn't slow my steps. I am risking my life for a spear I could possibly get later, at less cost…but until then I will be unarmed. How many times over could I die without a weapon? And sometimes to survive the arena you have to have something from the Cornucopia—whether it be water, food, medicine, or a weapon. What if it was one of those years? But there is no reason to question it now, I am closing in on the horn and I am not the only one.

I thought I was fast, but I'm not compared to the other girl. Not far from me on the left is a tall, thin girl with white blonde hair. I remember seeing her in training. She is dangerous looking—lethal and vicious. Her body has little meat to it, deceptively making her look weak—but I've seen her hurl an axe or a sword. She can hold her own with tributes twice her size. There is a cold curve to her smile, a steely look in her unpleasant grey eyes. But perhaps the most dangerous part of her is the intelligence that you can see in the way she reacts to things, and the way she speaks. Everything comes out as if she's had a lifetime to think about it, even in her anger. She is cold and calculating, also apparently wickedly fast.

She has outpaced me with her longer limbs, and she isn't slowing as she comes upon the Cornucopia. If I'm quick, I can grab something and get out before there's much of a scuffle, but as I reach the spot where her feet have just passed over I see her scooping up an axe and using the momentum of her speed to launch herself back toward me with the full weight of it. Her face is a mask of fury and rage as she brings the axe down on me with all of her body behind it.

Sliding, I find myself in the dirt with the axe thudding an inch from my ear into the hard-packed earth. Her vicious face is over me, livid that she has missed her target. We both grapple for the axe, intensely aware that the others are arriving and around us now—our tenuous lead garnered by speed and low-weight isn't of much use now. I wanted to be out of here before this. She probably did too.

Unexpectedly, the blonde throws her fist into my face causing stars to pop in my head. My head rockets back into the ground, causing more confusion as it hits the earth with another loud sound. It had been unexpected to say the least. As I struggle to find the world again—to focus my gaze and my muffled ears, my fingers lose the grip on the axe as she yanks it from the hard-packed earth.

As she lifts the axe, I know I won't be able to stop her this time—I'll die in these games just like my mother. I am powerless against her, I realize. My whole body freezes up as I look into her cold grey eyes.

The axe is above her head, she's not pausing or gloating—she's not taunting. She's going for the kill. Her lips are parted in the realization that I am hers and that she has won this battle. I'll be her first kill. It's all going to end, just like that and I'll never get back to Leif or Phae or…

I react out of anger, out of a fierce desire to live but it doesn't matter. Out of nowhere, I see the girl lifted from me like a rag doll. The brute from District 2 has her by the hair, and his other hand is at my throat pulling me up too. My eyes are watering and I'm trying to focus as he speaks.

"As much as I love watching a cat fight, it's not the time ladies." He throws me back down into the dirt, and I land with a hard thud that knocks the breath from me again. My hands go to my throat clawing at hands that aren't there anymore in an effort to catch my breath. But his eyes aren't on me when I can finally focus on him. I can see that his eyes are watching the blonde he's thrown down. The handle of the axe is in his hand, and the blade is just inches from her chest as she stares at him.

There are still strands of long hair in his hand from where her hair was ripped from her scalp with his grip. Her face is wearing a seething look of hatred as she lays there, unwilling and possibly unable by some superior breeding to beg for her life. She stares him down calmly, not a whimper or cry from her the whole time. It's like she's daring him to try it, daring him to kill her.

"Take it, get your weapons. Let's go now," he orders dismissing her quickly. It's then I realize, he means me too.

Something clicks in the girl's eyes and she takes the axe from him with a swift jerk and begins gathering up another pack and as many axes she can pick up. I find myself scrambling beside her, when his eyes fall on me. As I grab up the spears, small knives and a fine piece of netting I wonder why he wants us both?

He's obviously more powerful than us. I would have likely been killed, but he saved me whether that was his intention or not. Did he want me to feel like I owed him? Why would he want two allies he couldn't trust?

I glance back, where the big brute from two still stands over us. He didn't ask, he had merely demanded that we were going with him. It seems like a better chance than anything at the moment though despite the dangerous prospect of an alliance with two feral animals—he's the best chance at survival. Saying no to him, I'm sure would bring sudden—possibly painful, death. But alliances are tenuous and I doubt that either of my "allies" will be willing to lay down their life for me like my mother's partner did.

The man from two seems like a lone island of calm in the fight, until suddenly someone rushes at him intent on getting past him toward the treasures beyond. His hands are quick and effortless. I see the girl from District 2's, his own district, neck spin around backwards as her body falls to the ground at his feet.

Clean. Neat. Easy—without batting his eye, as if he'd done it every day for all his life. His first kill was just _that_easy and she was from home. She was one of his people... I feel a shiver run down my spine.

I turn away from the hollow eyes and gaping mouth of his district partner to see the look on the blonde's face, as she struggles to her feet weighed down with axes and a bow and arrow. Her face is set, there's nothing there except interest and a cool, calculating look. I feel sick though. He didn't hesitate to kill someone from home, so why not me?

Hefting a large bag, the willowy blonde thrusts it at the large male. By the weight of it, she can barely lift it, but as he takes it in his hands it looks almost too small and light as he hefts it onto his shoulders. He makes everything look easy—big burdens, murder, alliances…

Grabbing up the sword he had resting at his side, and a heavy coil of rope, he looks around at us calmly. Attached to his side already, is a small dagger that glints in the sun. If he's skilled at death with his hands, I can't imagine what he can do with a weapon. To be in an alliance with two people I know nothing about is risky, but what choice do I have?

The fray around us is calming, and I can barely hear the fight going on at the other side of the horn. Stepping over the body of the girl from 2, and several other mangled bodies I find myself standing beside the blonde and the brute who are looking at each other in that cold measuring way. Maybe they're wondering who's going to blink first?

It feels like an intrusion to watch them or to be here. There's something so deadly about the both of them that it makes me feel inadequate. But fighting is in my blood, even if I haven't trained like these two have. I have to hold my own with them if I want to make it back to my family, because as much as I'm afraid of them in some way I want to stay with them because I'm ashamed to admit I also know that as part of their group I'll have some safety.

Because, apparently we are an alliance.

Whatever that means.


	2. The Cat, The Mouse, and The Fox

_And now for Allette, sorry for the long absence, some IRL stuff has been happening. Let's hope this year is better!_

* * *

**Allette Zephyr, District 1**

**Chapter 2: The Cat, The Mouse, and the Fox**

**Alternate Title Option: What Does the Fox Say?**

* * *

_She didn't get this smart for nothing._

_She's a lean vixen: I can see_

_the ribs, the sly_

_trickster's eyes, filled with longing_

_and desperation, the skinny_

_feet, adept at lies_

_..._

_we'd all turn thief_

_and rascal, or so says the fox,_

_with her coat of an elegant scoundrel,_

_her white knife of a smile,_

_who knows just where she's going:_

_to steal something_

_that doesn't belong to her -_

_some chicken, or one more chance,_

_or other life."_

_― Margaret Atwood, Morning in the Burned House_

* * *

Her big brown eyes look up at me like a mouse caught in a trap. I raise the axe above my head, my body filling with a sort of raw power. I'm not scared to kill her-I don't feel pity or remorse or fear, she is merely an obstacle in my path back home.

Something in her eyes snaps into focus as I start to bring the axe down. Her will to fight is kicking in. My head is yanked back, my neck making a loud cracking sound as I slam into the ground. The force knocks me breathless, and I think, I black out a moment because the axe isn't in my hands anymore.

My body's first reaction is to move, but I force myself to stay still and get my bearings. There's a man standing above me-large and imposing. His arms are corded with muscle, and in his hands is _my_axe pointed at my chest.

I stare him down, not moving. Strands of my hair are entangled in his hands, the pale wisps blowing gently in the wind. I am faster than him, I could escape-outpace him possibly, but he's much larger. In feats of strength, I wouldn't be anywhere near his equal. He doesn't move to kill me, he doesn't move at all.

My body urges me to run, to make the sprint but my survival instincts keep me still. If he hasn't killed me yet, there's a reason he's keeping me alive. My eyes are filled with hate as I keep staring him down, "Take it, get your weapons. Let's go now."

For a moment longer I hesitate before wrapping my hands around the blade and jerking it to me. The blade bites deep into my hand, but I don't care because I am no longer weaponless or powerless. I have no doubts that I could at least make an even fight of it with him now. As for the mouse...she wouldn't be much of a problem when the opportunity arose.

I waste no time staring at him longer or at the girl. She has no weapon, and he has already shown that he's not ready to kill me-yet. I know that when the time comes, some pre-determined moment in his mind-that he will not hesitate. I will be a loose end to tie up, a barrier on the road home that will have to be overcome-but, for now, I'm safe.

Let the poor fools trust me, I can play along.

I scramble to my feet and move towards the items around the cornucopia. My hands move mechanically, securing as many items as I can into neat packs-making sure to weigh his bag down as much as possible. It probably won't bother him much, but any increased weight could tire him so it's worth the effort.

My mind goes over the list of tributes I'd studied for days. The boy, or rather the man, since he's too tall to be considered a boy, is from District 2-Rhett. Even in the short years the Games have been going on, they've become the Capitol's pets. They already boast four winners-including his brother in the seventh games. I remember him, it's hard not to, his brother's games were the bloodiest yet.

The girl though, Melanthe, her mother died in the arena. She's small, but fast. She's not completely useless, but so far she isn't showing any spine. One to watch, but definitely not my present concern.

Betting odds had high expectations of Rhett, a good pedigree and brute strength. He had been charming in his interviews, the women in the Capitol-and even the men, had swooned over him with his brown eyes and coal black hair.

My would-be-kill though, was smaller and wide eyed from District 4. Her skin is darker, bronzed from the sun and her eyes are brown. She's several inches shorter but she could hold her own, at least in training she had been able to wield a spear with precision. In the arena though, it's different. She'd frozen up for half a second and if Rhett hadn't been there then I'd have made my first kill.

One less obstacle on my way home. For a moment, I see those eyes that I dream about, that make some beast inside me breathe with fire and longing. I push the image of those eyes from my mind, it won't do to think of it now. I'll never make it home like that.

I feel her presence beside me, Melanthe, and I fight against myself not to end her now, because if I do try something then Rhett would be on me and my life would be over. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut and bid my time. How long would I have to wait? How long would I have to "trust" them before I could slit their throats while they were sleeping?

I do know one thing, _I _won't hesistate.

I strap on an axe and I turn in time to see him snap his district partner's pretty little neck. Satin, I think her name was, or maybe Silk or Ermine? Some soft stupid name from his district no doubt and we were supposed to be the one's with soft, stupid names.

Rhett though, he's far from stupid or soft. I can't help but feel a certain amount of respect for him. Most tributes in the past have balked from killing their own district partners until the end, believing they owed them something. But Rhett had put aside that foolish notion that coming from the same place should mean camaraderie. He had been friends with her during training, had learned that she was hard and strong. He had cultivated that feeling and had ended without a thought. She literally, never saw it coming.

He wasn't afraid to do what he needed to survive, which makes this alliance dangerous and tenuous at best. How long will he cultivate and use us before he hacks us into little pieces?

This game has just gotten a lot more dangerous.

I pick up the large back-pack, and arrange it's supplies. Empty water bottles, some food, first aid, and a tent. Into a smaller back-pack, I put a jacket and some carefully selected supplies for my future departure. I keep it light, each item only there because of it's importance. I tug the back-pack up that I've prepared for Rhett with all my strength, my muscles taut with exertion. I step over the body of his partner and hand it to him.

"Here, pack mule," I taunt him as he takes the bag from me as though it's a child's toy. The ease with which he holds it is astonishing, the weight won't tire him easily.

The doe-eyed girl Melanthe has strapped several spears and small knives to herself, but she lacks a backpack which would give her chances of survival without us. Not my problem, if she's too stupid or trusting to not have one. It'll make it easier to kill her later with no water bottle or food. She'd get weak from her own stupidity and lack of preparation, then I'd gut her like a pig.

For a moment, Rhett's eyes lock with mine. I don't blink as he attempts to measure me up, but I think out how to move an axe to defend myself if he strikes. I plan his death in my mind, and look at him with cold, angry eyes. I itch to bury the blade in his skin, to eliminate the threat of him, but I know that I don't have the upper hand.

I smile up at him wickedly, because he and I both know the time is not now. Neither of us, will die today. Right now the odds are in his favour, and I would rather them be in mine before I attack. His hand jerks the sword out of the ground where it was resting, as he smiles back at me. Like a cat, he plays with his food.

Rhett lets out a loud laugh at me, "I suppose you'd like me to lead? That's fine. I'm _sure_I can trust you." He smiles easily, bright and menacing as he takes off without waiting for either of us. Melanthe stands between his retreating figure and mine, trapped between us. She's at a loss of what to do.

"Scurry little mouse," I grin slyly. "I wouldn't fall too far behind him if I were you…" She scrambles to catch up with him, her head snapping from looking at him to glancing back to keep an eye on me.

I wait until she turns her head again, and grab up a thin sharp knife from the pile. Sliding it beneath my shirt, I fall in behind them as we start our trek into the jungle.


End file.
